Dogsitting
by Cosmic-Wallaby
Summary: When Sherlock agrees to look after a dog for a month so he can experiment, he doesn't realise what he's getting himself into. Is this another nucience, or will Toby the dog be more use than anybody expected? This is my first Sherlock fanfic. It dots about from event to event, and is just a bit of fun. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

John yawned as he walked down the stairs from his room into the living room, and swearing in surprise as he tripped over something huge and hairy, stumbling to his knees "What the hell?" he muttered. Sherlock looked up from where he was sat in front of his laptop across the room "Careful" he stated about thirty seconds too late. John scrambled to his feet and turned around. The shape raised its head. It was a dog, a huge, brown and white, scruffy creature with long drooping ears "What the hell?" John repeated "Why's there a dog in our flat? What's it doing here?" he asked, looking down. The dog stared at him for a few seconds and flopped back down "He" Sherlock replied, not taking his eyes off the screen. "What?" John asked, still focussing on the dog.  
"He's not 'it'. He's a he. Toby"  
"Sherlock, you forget to eat. Please tell me you didn't get a dog"  
"God no. Can you imagine trying to fit him around a case? I've just borrowed him for some experiments" Sherlock laughed like the idea of him having a dog was the most ridiculous suggestion ever. John turned round looking shocked "No. I tolerate poison chemicals in the cupboard and body parts in the fridge. But I am not letting you conduct animal testing in here Sherlock! It's wrong, it's somebody's dog for Pete's sake!"  
"You don't understand. No surprise there" Sherlock muttered. Then, clearer "I'm not testing anything on him. I'm testing what chemicals can be used to prevent him finding blood trails. Toby's a home trained sniffer dog"  
"That's reassuring. Though he doesn't look like a sniffer dog. He looks like a lump of fur" John said doubtfully, leaning down to scratch the dog's head. He liked dogs. As a kid he had always wanted one, but his parents never let him. And now with his life it was just too busy.  
"He's a lurcher spaniel cross. Though he has a lot of wolfhound in him" Sherlock informed him. John nodded, knowing better than to question it. He walked through to the kitchen and poured some water into the kettle. The dog followed him with an odd, waddling gait, and watched him expectantly "When did you get him?"  
"Six AM I believe"  
"Have you given him anything to drink?"  
"No? Why would I?" Sherlock asked, seeming generally confused. John sighed  
"It's a dog Sherlock! It can't get it itself!" he exclaimed. He grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with water, putting it on the floor for the dog, who lapped at it noisily "I forget" Sherlock shrugged. John sighed, going to sit down "Didn't you have any pets when you were a kid?" He asked.  
"No. Mummy hated anything with fur. I briefly had a parrot until Mycroft discovered it in my cupboard and took it back. You?"  
"We had a cat called Simon. He was a huge fat thing, ginger. My parents didn't like dogs. Me and Harry had goldfish, they never ended well"  
"Harry and I" Sherlock corrected. John shrugged. Toby finished his drink and walked over to the consulting detective, putting his head on Sherlock's lap. Sherlock pushed him away with the tips of his fingers, looking down in dismay at the trail of drool the dog left behind "I think I'm more of a cat person" He sighed. John laughed, calling Toby over  
"Who's a good boy Toby? Who's a good dog?" he chatted, scratching the mongrel under his chin. Sherlock sighed loudly. John looked around and spotted a collar and leash hanging off the door handle "Are you done with your experiments?" he asked.  
"For now"  
"So Toby's going back home?" John pressed.  
"No, I agreed I'd take care of him the whole month. His owner is in Africa. Inconvenient but necessary" Sherlock sighed.  
"A month? Did they give you food and his bed and everything?" John asked, looking around, but seeing nothing. "No" Sherlock replied "He's fairly forgetful"  
"What are you going to do?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged and typed something else  
"He'll be fine"  
"What do you mean he'll be fine! Look, I'll take him for a walk and get some stuff ok?"  
"If you must" Sherlock nodded, still not looking up. John rose from his chair and picked up the collar  
"Come on Toby. Time for a walk" John announced. The dog lumbered over and after a minute of fumbling John clipped on his collar, and left. Sherlock watched him leave. As the door shut a small smirk appeared on his face "I wouldn't make him do it, but he makes it so easy" He muttered to his skull. It did not respond.


	2. Pooch Preparations

"Don't worry Toby, I'll make sure you'll be ok" John chatted to the dog as he walked. He was perfectly aware how crazy he looked, but he found it easier to think aloud to the dog. He suddenly realised that was what Sherlock did with him.  
For the sake of pride, he ignored it.  
After about ten minutes of walking John found a pet shop. He hesitated outside with Toby, before seeing a man walk out with a small terrier under his arm. John shrugged and walked in; hoping Toby was ok with other dogs. He needn't worried about that though. Toby was very good. No, his main problem was the dog isle. There were at least fifty types of food. Dozens of bed types. Did he need toys? Treats? He looked down at Toby, who stared back up with hazel eyes "Care to help me out?" He asked the dog "Sure" replied a voice. John frowned and looked up. A young woman with long blonde hair and a tall, silky furred red setter at her side was looking at him, amusement in her eyes "I think I might be more help than him" She added, reaching out to stroke Toby "First time dog owner?" She asked. He nodded "Yeah, you could say that".  
"Didn't plan to get one?"  
"Definitely not. Don't think I'm quite cut out for the canine life" he laughed. She smiled  
"Don't say that, everybody is clueless at first. I've had dogs since I was a kid. I'm actually here helping my friend, she got her's last week" She pointed to a woman stood in front of toys holding a little fluffy Chihuahua who was attempting to eat her hair as she laughed "Storm. Stormy, stop" she tried a serious tone, but just ending up laughing. The blonde woman shrugged "Eh, she's fine for now. What are you struggling with?"  
"Uh...Everything?"

A good half an hour later John paid for a bag of dry dog food, a large padded blanket, various assorted toys, doggy bags and some treats . He bid farewell and thanks to the women and their dogs. Toby seemed disappointed to leave his new friends, but recovered the second he was shown the ball and rope toy. John laughed at the dog's joy at something so simple, finding himself feeling oddly cheerful, even if he hadn't planned on the impromptu pet.

"No" Mrs Hudson frowned, staring down at Toby "No pets Sherlock, that's the agreement"  
"He's not mine" Sherlock replied "Therefore he doesn't count under pet, he counts under guest"  
"He's a dog, therefore he's a pet. He's huge boys, and he smells, and he's in my house..." She trailed off. John frowned "Sorry, bag of thumbs in the fridge is ok, but dog for four short weeks is not?" he argued. She threw her hands in the air "Sorry boys, I'm not negotiating this one. The dog-"  
"Toby" Sherlock and John corrected.  
"_Toby_ goes, or all of you go" She finished, folding her arms. Even Sherlock, Mr. Punch line, had no clue what to say. Toby however, had the situation sorted. He stood from where he had been sat beside John, wandered over to Mrs Hudson. He sat in front of her with a slight whimper, and held up a paw, looking both adorable and completely pathetic. Her face softened a little "Well. I suppose he's rather cute..." She sighed "Clean him up, no leaving him in alone in the flat, and if I hear a single peep from him tonight he's gone, deal?"  
"Deal" Sherlock agreed.


End file.
